Amm(i)gone, Woolly Mammoth Theatre, Washington, DC

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Adil Mansoor in Amm(i)gone at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. Photo by Teresa Castracane.

The program note (available online) for Woolly Mammoth’s production of Amm(i)gone (a made-up word that cannot be mispronounced: mentally I pronounced it as “am-MIG-oh-nee”) summarizes things more eloquently and succinctly than anything I might write:

Creator and performer Adil Mansoor invites his Pakistani mother to translate Antigone into Urdu [the national language of Pakistan] as a means of exploring the tensions between family and faith. Should he keep his queerness buried from his devout Muslim mother? Through Greek tragedy, teachings from the Quran, and 9 audio conversations with his mother, Mansoor creates this theatrical personal story about locating love across faith.

In this one-person show, themes of family, devotion, religion and faith, cultural differences, acceptance and respect, and views of the afterlife emerge as Mansoor shares his very personal story. But the way in which he creates this theatrical experience, these themes are explored in such a way that it becomes universally relatable. I believe the play is still very much a work in progress, having been performed in Pittsburgh for six performances at the Kelly Strayhorn Theatre. After its Woolly Mammoth run, it will be performed at the Long Wharf Theatre in New Haven, Connecticut. Currently, it is an 80-minute event written, performed, and co-directed by the author.

The details are intriguing. Mansoor was born in Pakistan but moved as an infant to the suburbs of Chicago, where he grew up. His parents’ stormy marriage dissolved and, as the eldest child, young Adil took on real responsibility helping to support his now-single mother and his younger brother and sister. Only after leaving home for college did he “come out,” but never quite formally to his mother. His father’s reaction was, basically, that’s fine, just don’t talk about it. The “talking about it” is more difficult for his father to deal with than knowing about it.

In the Sophocles tragedy, Antigone’s two brothers have both died fighting each other. King Kreon decrees that one was a hero and can be buried, while the other’s body is to be left untouched. He further decrees that anyone who disobeys his order will be put to death. Antigone understands, but her concern is that, unburied, one of her brothers will not have an afterlife. Antigone’s sister, Ismene, loves her and understands that Antigone will do what she must, even though her actions mean that Ismene will be left totally alone.

Similarly, Mansoor’s mother fears that her son’s departure from her Muslim faith means that he will be condemned in the afterlife. She appears more concerned with that than with the life he currently lives.

Mansoor left Chicago for Pittsburgh, with his partner. They form the nucleus of what his mother cannot view as a family. To protect her, he compartmentalizes his sexuality when he is with his mother. However, he laments that – because of this – there is much that he cannot share with her that, specifically that there is someone who cares for him. He notes, however, that his mother could easily “Google” him and read enough about his activities that she couldn’t not know. (A Google search of the author’s name finds his web page, asserting that he “centers queer people of color and their stories.”)

Adil Mansoor in Amm(i)gone. Note the transcribed telephone call on the screen. Photo: Teresa Castracane.

As mentioned in the program note, nine recorded telephone conversations with his mother are included in the play. While we never really see his mother (out of respect for her, as a hijab-wearing Muslim woman, her image is covered whenever photos are shown), but we hear her in those conversations. She very much takes her place as a character in the story. The telephone conversations are transcribed in projections, which helps when occasional Urdu phrases are inserted.

The event is staged with Pakistan-inspired (if not literally Pakistani) designs that provide Mansoor a suitable space in which to tell his story. Xotchil Musser is the set and lighting designer, with media design by Joseph Amodei and Davine Byon. As I have noted in previous reviews, Woolly Mammoth, among DC theatres, seems most consistently to integrate seamlessly projections into their visual presentations. Aaron Landgraf provides the sound design, which takes on extra significance because of the use of the recorded telephone conversations. Lyam B. Gabel co-directs the play (with Mansoor).

How can one critique an actor playing himself, recounting events from his life, expressing his feelings? Mansoor comes across as an affable personality, somewhat self-deprecating, but sincere in his commitment. As much as anything else, his heartfelt performance portrays his love for his mother and his desire to be a “whole” person with her, without hiding the parts of his identity with which she might not be comfortable. Not being able to be completely authentic with his mother in all of the aspects of his personhood is the real tragedy.

Amm(i)gone is an excellent example of Woolly Mammoth’s work, which contributes to the company’s core values:

We are an anti-racist and radically inclusive community – across race, ethnicity, nationality, age, gender identity, sexual orientation, physical ability, socioeconomic background and political viewpoint – in which all are encouraged to exchange ideas freely and reach for new understanding.

Adil Mansoor in Amm(i)gone. Photo: Teresa Castracane.